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Family Means More Than Blood	By : WingsofaDream Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 59826 -:- Recommendations : 3 -:- Currently Reading : 7
Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its associated characters are property of J K Rowling, not me. This story is not being written for profit, just for the lols.

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Fire: heat; light; the scent of burning. He was standing in the centre of it all, darkness all around. It was just Him, surrounded by a ring of fire.

"Kill him!"

He spun around just in time to see someone, a man, stagger towards Him. A gasp escaped Him seconds before hands wrapped around His throat tightly, effectively cutting off His breathing, His windpipe squeezed together painfully. His eyes were open, but there was nothing definite in front of Him. He could feel the hands, He could see that hands and the arms which continued on but that was it. The arms faded away at the elbows, into nothingness. In His own hand, He was holding a lump of something which was hard and pointy.

Panic surged through Him as everything started getting faint and a ringing started in His ears. As everything around started to fade away, what looked like a mirror caught His attention from somewhere at the side. His gaze wandered over to it and if He could have breathed, He would have gasped.

Staring back at Him was the face of Johnathan Potter.

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4th June 1992: Early Morning

Harry gave a small cry as he shot up in bed, breathing heavily, his eyes opened wide. That dream he had just had, it had been so real, like it was one of his visions. The dorm room around him was eerily quiet, the only sound coming from him breathing and from outside, where it was raining.

His eyes widened with the realisation that it was raining and he scrambled out of his bed, getting terribly tangled in his sheets as he did. He finally managed to get up though and after grabbing his glasses, he dashed to his window as he struggled to get the eye-wear on in his rush. When he reached the window, he grabbed the corner of the wall beside it in order to stop himself from carrying on too far or falling over. Seconds later, the window had been flung open and green eyes stared outside in horror. The rain was black again! And after what he had heard Potter say the other night...

Without closing the window or even thinking enough to grab his wand, Harry sprinted out of the dark room, not at all quietly, grabbing his dressing gown as he passed where it was laying at the foot of his bed. He ran down the stairs two at a time as he pulled on the thick dressing gown, not actually knowing what he was planning to do. What could he do? Black rain might mean Voldemort or it might not. It also might not mean Voldemort was a threat right away but Harry was hardly thinking straight. The dream he had just seen had put him on edge anyway and he was simply acting on reaction and instinct.

Half-way down the stairs, Harry looked up into the common room, taking his eyes off of his feet which he had been watching to make sure he did not miss a step. What he saw was a faintly lit, by a left-to-burn candle, common room which was completely empty...Except for the body which was just laying on the floor next to an arm chair.

"Neville!" Harry gasped in horror, recognising the face of the body.

He jumped the last couple of steps and dashed over to the boy. Dropping to his knees upon reaching Neville's side, he quickly reached for his neck to try and find his pulse. It took him a second or two to actually find the right spot but he did, indeed, manage it and was relieved to feel the pulse beating as strong as ever. What was wrong with the boy then? It occurred to him that the boy's limbs looked strangely rigid. Frowning lightly in confusion, Harry tried to bend Neville's arm only to find it as stiff as stone. More quick thinking led him to the conclusion that someone had obviously petrified the First Year Gryffindor.

Thinking on his feet, he brought his hands up to his neck and pulled off his pendant. "Tolth(1)." He said quickly and within seconds he was holding his staff. He then spoke a soft word: "Elessa(2)." The spell, which he had only ever cast to practice, seemed to work as a green pool of light spread out underneath the prone body in front of him and several orbs of green light rose from the pool, fading away well before they reached the ceiling. After a few seconds of that, Neville released what sounded like the rest of a gasp and he instantly sat up just as the light faded. "Neville, who did this to you?" Harry asked quickly, getting down on one knee so he was closer to the boy's seated height.

"Hermione." Neville told him in a panicked tone.

Harry frowned slightly at that, not quite believing it.

"The three of them, they've gone out somewhere. I tried to stop them but then they did that to me..."

"Oh Goddess..." Harry breathed in dread.

The dream he just had, it was about to happen, he just knew it. Thinking back very quickly, he remembered the various snippets of information he had got from the three First Years: they thought Severus was trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone for Voldemort but that was okay because Dumbledore was still around; Dumbledore had left the school that morning; they had no doubt gone to protect the Stone. But where was the Stone? And that was when the conversation he had with the three the afternoon after his first Quidditch match. On the third floor, there was a trap door guarded by what sounded like a Cerberus. That had to be it; that was where they were going!

"Neville, I'm going after them. I want you to go and get a teacher, any teacher will do." He told the timid boy quickly, his tone rushed and serious. "Tell them what's happened no matter what, don't let them send you away. Just say that we've gone after the Philosopher's Stone, that should be enough, okay?"

Neville could only nod.

"Good boy." Harry said before jumping to his feet and dashing over to the portrait hole. There was no time to go back upstairs and grab his wand; he would have to make do with his staff.

He all but flew to the third floor for all the time that his feet spent on the floor he was running so fast. He needed to go and save Potter before his dream came true because it was going to, he could feel it in his soul and, although he might not like the brat, he did not want to see him die or have his death on his conscience. Soon, he was on the third floor but he had no idea if he was in the right section of the third floor. He neither stopped nor slowed, he could not afford to, but he did wonder if he was going the right way. However, when he reached a door at the end of the corridor he was in and opened it to be confronted with massive, gnashing jaws, he was pretty certain that he was in the right place.

Harry staggered back awkwardly, only just managing to avoid getting his head bitten off as the black Cerberus lurched towards him, its jaws clenching together mere centimetres away from his chest. After mentally scanning his memory to come up with a suitable spell which would make sure the giant dog stopped being a threat but did not hurt it, Harry raised his staff and pointed it towards the dog slightly.

"L'ore(3)." He said in a mere whisper, remembering that this particular spell was supposed to be spoken quietly. A shower of multi-coloured lights began to rain down on the Cerberus, settling on all of its three heads making each one shine and glitter. It took quite a lot of effort on Harry's part but eventually the Cerberus began to show signs that it was falling asleep.

Taking the chance, Harry ducked into the room quickly while the creature was still conscious; he was reluctant to spare the time to wait for it to fall asleep completely. Luckily, the trapdoor had been ripped off of its hinges, no doubt when the creature had tried to go after the three First Years he was trailing, so he could just jump down into the hole before the sleepy Cerberus could even fully realise that Harry had dodged past him. As Harry fell into the darkness beneath the trapdoor, he wondered how on Earth three First Years had managed to get past a fully grown Cerberus like that.

Harry landed with a small grunt of discomfort on something hard and viney. He frowned lightly and looked to see what was beneath him only to see black vines were starting to creep around his waist, legs and arms. With a jerk of his right hand, he pulled away from the vine which had been trying to curl around his wrist in order to protect his staff and he was slightly surprised when the vines around his waist and legs squeezed him in reply. It did a little more than startle him, especially when he felt a vine wrap itself around his neck too. Trying his best not to panic, he tried to remember his Herbology lessons in an attempt to identify what it was he was stuck in.

It took him several seconds to remember but he finally decided that what he was trapped in was most probably Devil's Snare. Luckily, along with that conclusion, the method of getting rid of the horrible plant came to him as well. He hesitated a moment, wondering if the Vow of Pacifism stretched to plants as well but in the end he decided that even if attacking the plant did break the Vow (though he doubted it did) he had no other choice.

"Cal(4)!" He called as he thrust his staff into the air somewhat awkwardly.

Bright, white light gathered in a small pool above the pearl on top of the staff. After it had grown to about the size of a dinner plate, the light formed into droplets and fell onto several areas of the Devil's Snare which had Harry trapped. The black vines instantly withered and a few seconds later Harry had fallen through the layer, landing on the stone floor below with a thump. He allowed himself no time to recover from the pain before he was back on his feet and dashing off once again.

Harry passed through an odd room with an impossibly high ceiling and the door which led out was strangely studded with dozens of keys that had wings attached them, the wings still twitching every so often. He did hesitate before trying the door because of them, wary that they might suddenly pull free and attack him. Thankfully, nothing happened when he touched the door however and he was free to pull it open and pass through it without trouble.

Continuing on, the next room of worthy of note that he passed through was actually more like a hall, the size of it. And it was in complete ruin. There were huge chunks of broken rock everywhere and there were thin clouds of dust drifting around in some places. It occurred to Harry that the ruins looked a lot like the remnants of statues and the few stone pedestals dotted around lent strength to that thought. It was as he was scanning his surroundings curiously, having stopped momentarily to check for anything dangerous, that he caught sight of the kneeling figure of Hermione. He started over to her in a slow jog until he noticed that Ron was laying at her knees, not moving. That was when he picked up his pace again.

"Are you both all right?" He asked as he neared them, dropping to his knees heavily beside Ron the moment he was close enough to him.

"I think he must've hit his head." Hermione told him quickly as Harry began to look Ron over without touching him. Upon hearing that though, he gently turned Ron's head to the side with his free hand to check the back of it and was reassured to find no blood. After guiding his back into its original position, Harry pressed two fingers to Ron's neck, checking the pulse. It was there and strong.

"Where's Potter?" Harry asked quickly once he was certain that Ron was relatively fine.

"He went on ahead."

"Alright. You stay here, help should be coming soon. I'll go and bring back Potter." Harry told her as he got back onto his feet and sprinted off again.

For a couple of minutes, he could only run as fast as his legs would allow him, desperately trying to catch up with the Gryffindor who was somewhere ahead of him. Then, finally, just as his legs were starting to go wobbly and his lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen, he saw the boy up ahead who was at least doing the smart thing of going on slowly and carefully.

"Potter!" Harry called angrily as he continued to run after the boy who was totally ignoring him. Finally catching up to him, Harry grabbed his shoulder and yanked him around so they were face to face. "Are you deaf or something? Or just too stupid to realise that when someone calls your name it's because they want you to stop?"

"No, I just don't want to talk to a loser like you." The First Year retorted with a glare. "What are you doing down here anyway?

"I'm here to stop you from getting yourself killed! Now c'mon, we're going back." Harry ordered as he tried to pull Potter along with him. The twelve year old was not cooperative though and yanked himself out of the older boy's grip. Harry turned back to look at the brown eyed boy and glared at him venomously. "Potter, do you want to die? Because if you go any further, I assure you, that's what's going to happen!"

"Spare me the concern, Snape, I know what I'm doing." Potter smirked, turning to walk away.

"No, I don't think you do." Harry seethed, struggling to control his temper, as he roughly pulled the First Year back to him by the elbow. "I don't think you have any idea what you're really doing and I don't think you can handle yourself against what's up ahead."

"What do you know? I'll have you know, my father is one of the greatest Aurors there is..."

"Yes, you're right, as much as I hate to admit it, your father is a great Auror, one of the best in fact; but you are not your father! You are a silly little First Year Gryffindor with ideas so far beyond your station that the station looks like a dot to you! You haven't even finished your first year at Hogwarts and you think you can face someone who won't hesitate to kill you on your own? It's completely idiotic! The only thing you've done right this entire night is making Hermione stay behind with Ron, though you shouldn't have brought them down here in the first place!"

"Hey, I didn't make them come down with me, they didn't have to!"

"And neither did you, now c'mon, we're going back." Harry ordered, once again trying to pull the boy along with him.

"No, I'm not!" Potter yelled, pulling away and running off back down the corridor.

"Potter!" Harry called angrily, immediately starting off after the boy.

Harry followed the younger boy all the way through two corridors before finally catching up when they were getting close to an archway which led into a large chamber. However, before he could yell at the arrogant youth or even properly hold him back, they both froze upon seeing that there was someone already in the room, standing with their back towards them in front of the Mirror of Erised. Both boys immediately recognised the person and their eyes opened in realisation.

"You!" Potter gasped, confused, as he moved down the steps; Harry made sure to keep to his side all the way down, just in case. "No, it can't be you...It was Snape..."

The figure turned around towards them, confirming the identity Harry and Potter had already guessed; Professor Quirrel. "Yes, he does seem the type, doesn't he?" The man asked in such a confident, arrogant tone that it surprised both boys. "And compared to him, who would ever suspect p-poor st-stuttering Pro-professor Qu-quirrel."

"But on Hallowe'en, Snape let the troll in." Potter pointed out quickly.

"No, I let the troll in as a distraction so I could go and get the Stone. Unfortunately, I didn't count on Snape figuring me out and heading me off."

"Okay, then what about the Quidditch match? Snape tried to kill him." Potter insisted, pointing to Harry.

"No, you foolish boy, do you really think Snape would try and hurt his precious son in any way? I was the one who tried to kill him. And I would've done it too if I hadn't have lost my eye contact, even with your father muttering his little counter curse." Quirrel sneered to Harry.

"So Snape was actually trying to save him..." Potter murmured and Harry fought the desire to roll his eyes and say "duh".

"Yes, and from then on he never trusted me again. Everywhere I turned he was there, watching me, I was never alone. But, then again, I'm never really alone anyway." Quirrel mumbled cryptically in a rather distant voice.

"Why did you try and kill me?" Harry asked carefully. "I knew nothing about the Philosopher's Stone, I wasn't a threat to you."

"I wanted rid of you to attempt to free myself from such God-forsaken torture!" Quirrel practically spat, sounding suddenly angry and completely back into reality. "I hoped if you were gone, He too would go." He paused and a creepy smile spread across his lips. "But I was foolish then. I've long since seen the correct path; it is an honour to be His host." The last part was spoken in such an accepting, relaxed tone that Harry was starting to seriously wonder about the man's mental health.

"Be whose host?"

"Allow me." A hoarse, hissing voice spoke then and Harry's blood ran cold at the sound.

"But Master, you're not strong enough..." Quirrel tried to reason, his tone returning to more of what the two students were used to.

"Now!" The voice demanded and Quirrel winced as though in pain, seemingly having no choice but to concede.

The man's hands came up to his turban and very slowly began to unfold it. Harry winced as a the uncomfortable burning sensation in his scar returned with a vengeance and his brought his free hand up to fist against it. As the last of the material fell away from the professor's head, what it was originally covering was revealed and both boys gasped in horror and disgust, the burn in Harry's scar fading slightly to a not so intense degree.

"Hello Haryon." The voice of Voldemort hissed as Harry and Potter stared at the strained face attached to the back of Quirrel's head through the Mirror of Erised.

"Merlin..." Potter breathed as Harry only remained silent, not believing what he was seeing.

"Ahh, and this is..." Voldemort left the question hanging for Quirrel, his attention attracted to Potter by the softly spoken word.

"Johnathan Potter." The professor answered.

"Oh I see, son of James Potter no doubt. A most irritating man."

"I thought you said he was living off the unicorns?" Harry hissed to Potter angrily.

"The blood of the unicorns can only sustain my existence; it cannot give my own body. It touches me that you care though, Haryon." The parasitic life-form said before Potter could reply, his tone softening near the end, just as Quirrel raised his wand and pointed it at Potter.

"Stupify!" The professor called. The red light flew from the tip of his wand and hit the First Year in the middle of his chest.

"Potter!" Harry gasped as the boy crumpled onto the stairs beside him, a rather nasty smack sound coming as Potter's head hit the stone. He raised his staff in order to revive the stunned First Year but his body froze suddenly and he found that he could not move at all.

"Come down here to me, Harry." Voldemort encouraged gently and Harry moved forward accordingly even though he wanted nothing more than to run away.

With awkward, jerky steps, Harry made his way down the stone stairs and over to where Quirrel stood in front of the Mirror of Erised. He came to a stop in front of the man who looked down at him neutrally. Then, the professor turned around, so he was facing away from Harry but Voldemort was facing him. Harry's body still was not his to control so he could do nothing to try and get away; he was stuck there for Voldemort to do whatever he wished.

"Oh, look at you. You've grown so much since I last saw you; such a beautiful young man. And you let your hair grow." Voldemort sighed happily as Quirrel stepped backwards, closer to Harry so the face could be closer to the Third Year.

Reluctant to let the face get to close, Harry pulled away slightly, his eyes screwing shut tightly to block out the awful sight in front of him.

Voldemort seemed to mistake the reaction for fear however. "Don't be afraid, I'm not going to hurt you. I don't blame you for what happened last time. In fact, I'm glad it happened; I'd rather lose my body than lose you."

Harry had to consciously stop himself from flinching away from how close Voldemort's face was to his.

"And now that I have you back, I think it's time I got my body back too. Help me do that, Harry, show me where the Philosopher's Stone is; I know you know where it is."

Quirrel stepped aside then and Harry was able to see himself in the Mirror of Erised. He quickly looked away though, not wanting to see himself murder Voldemort again. Now that Voldemort was back, it was once again an actual possibility, especially if the evil man got his own body back. But if he could get the Philosopher's Stone before Voldemort, he could protect it and get it to Dumbledore. Then the temptation would not be an issue because Voldemort would still be a part of Quirrel. But, despite what Voldemort obviously thought, he did not even know where the Stone was and he did not know where to start looking.

Flickering his eyes to the Mirror, Harry figured he should at least make it look like he was trying to help the evil man, even if he was not entirely sure what good looking into the Mirror of Erised would do. Surprise filled him when the him in the Mirror did not start killing a Voldemort though. Instead, the him in the Mirror reached down to the pocket of his dressing gown, slipping inside gently. Then, when the hand was pulled back out, the Harry in the Mirror was holding a red stone. The real Harry's eyes widened as he moved his hand to the pocket of his dressing gown and felt that there was something suddenly in his pocket. His gaze moved up to look his reflection in the eye and the Mirror Harry grinned at him and gave him a wink before replacing what was probably the Philosopher's Stone.

"So? Tell me what you see." Voldemort ordered gently though there was a definite hint of impatience there which made Harry rather nervous.

"I..." He hesitated, desperately trying to come up with something he could see; anything at all. "I'm Head Boy and...I've just won the House Cup." Okay, maybe he could have tried to think of something a little better than that.

"Don't lie to me Harry." Voldemort warned in a harsh tone which made Harry want to cringe.

"I'm not lying."

"Yes you are, because we both know that what I'm looking for is in your pocket."

Harry's eyes widened, surprised that Voldemort actually knew. What was the point in getting Harry to tell him if he already knew? The reason hardly mattered, but it meant he could no longer buy himself time. If he wanted to stop Voldemort from getting the Philosopher's Stone, he had to get away from him immediately. So, once again without a decent plan, the teenager turned and sprinted back towards the archway which led out of the chamber.

"Stop him!" Voldemort ordered Quirrel and seconds later, fire had roared to life all around him, blocking his exit.

Before Harry could turn back to face the possessed teacher, he heard a call of "Stupify". He quickly spun around, raising his staff in front of him as he did so. "Beria(5)!" He called quickly and the usual shielding dome of light covered him, effectively stopping the spell which Quirrel had sent speeding towards him.

"Haryon, stop this!" Voldemort ordered angrily as Professor Quirrel started forward, towards him.

"Professor, you can't be happy like this!" Harry said desperately to Professor Quirrel, ignoring Voldemort completely. He had no idea where he was going with this, as far as he was concerned he was totally winging it. "To have to live like this, to suffer pain whenever you do something that Voldemort doesn't like..."

"Because of you!" Quirrel insisted, his tone of voice a little higher than normal. "Every time my Master has punished me is because of you. I admit that the punishment for trying to kill you was deserved, but only because I was trying to free myself. I don't deserve the punishment just because I make you hurt!"

"You forget your place, Quirrel!" Voldemort hissed venomously just as the man gave a pained cry and crumbled to his knees, clutching his head desperately.

"Please Professor, we can help you!" Harry called over the man's cries, desperate to get the man to listen to him. "You don't have to be a slave to Voldemort anymore. We can exorcise him; I can exorcise him." At least, he hoped he could. He knew the theory behind such exorcism but he had never practiced it before.

"No, no one can help me." Quirrel sobbed but there was a hint of something in his tone which gave Harry hope that there was still a chance to convince him.

"Yes, we can, I can. I can do it right now, but you need to want me to. I can't dispel him if you don't help me."

"No, no one's strong enough, he's too strong, he won't leave." Quirrel mumbled, sounding half crazed and Harry wondered what the man's life was going to be like if Voldemort ever did leave him.

"We're strong enough, Professor; you and I, if we work together."

"Be silent!" Voldemort spat and it was unclear who he was speaking to. He may even have been talking to the both of them.

"C'mon Professor, be strong, we can do it, I promise we can."

Quirrel looked up from his position on his knees and caught Harry's eye with his own tortured gaze. Pain lanced through the both of them then and Harry winced at the sensation, his eyes shutting of their own accord. Luckily, that cut the worse of the pain off for him but Quirrel was not so lucky. He cried out in agony as the spirit possessing him sent jolts of punishing pain through him.

"How many times have I told you, Quirrel? You do not look at Harry, you do not cause him pain!" Voldemort hissed angrily, sounding not the least but sympathetic.

"I'm sorry Master, I'm sorry!" Quirrel cried, his hands gripping his head tightly.

"Professor." Harry said softly in a moment of quiet, deciding to go for another approach with the traumatised man. The professor did not look up at him and the teenager could only assume he had the man's attention. "I know you're scared, Sir, but I can make Voldemort go away, I can stop the pain."

For several seconds there was nothing but Quirrel's laboured breathing. Harry allowed his shield to fade as it was clear the man was in no condition to attack him any time soon and he would need all the energy he could muster if he was going to try this crazy idea of his to exorcise Voldemort. That is, if the man agreed to it. From where he was curled up on the floor, looking rather sorry, Harry could not help but wonder if the man was not too broken to accept help.

But then, Harry heard it. A very soft whimper before Quirrel managed to say just one very small, softly spoken word: "Please..."

"You traitor!" Voldemort howled angrily seconds before the professor released a bone-chilling cry as he was punished for his disobedience. But it was hope for Harry because it meant Quirrel wanted Voldemort gone, it meant that it would make it easier to expel the spirit.

Raising his staff again and tipping it in the direction of the writhing man, Harry's eyes closed in concentration once again as he began to chant in a raised voice, trying to be heard over the man's screams: "Aku Ryu Tai San(5)!"

A large pool of blinding white light spread out around Professor Quirrel so that he was in the very centre of the circle. Beams of light rose up from the pool, surrounding the tortured man and cutting the sight of him off from Harry mostly. The man's out-line could still be made out through the wall of light but no details were visible.

Harry tried his best to block out the man's screaming and could only hope to his Goddess that he was doing everything right. He could not remember High Priest Sephiran mentioning a lot of pain for the person being exorcised but this was exorcising the spirit of Voldemort from someone; anything involving Voldemort had to be painful. As Professor Quirrel's screaming started to fade away, Harry desperately wanted to open his eyes to make sure the man was all right but he was scared that doing so would shatter his concentration. It did not take long for his insatiable curiosity to win out however and, in one quick go, eye-lids flew open and green eyes landed on the sight of the bright light in front of them.

He instantly noticed that Quirrel was still moving, so that was a good sign, and he also noticed that just above the form of the man was something black which was floating around inside the prison of light. That was it! That black thing was the spirit of Voldemort, it had to be! He had been taught, in detail, by High Priest Sephiran, about the theory of exorcism and he was sure that the way to know that an exorcism had been successful without taking off the spell was to search for a black form somewhere inside the light. And there it was, hovering around, looking like it was trying to get out of the prison. Now, if Harry could just keep the spell going long enough for help to come then someone more experienced could finish Voldemort off because, as much as he knew about the process, he was not completely sure on what you were supposed to do with the exorcised spirit once it was out of the possessed person's body.

Unfortunately, to ask such a thing of someone so young and on their first attempt at doing something like that was ridiculously impractical. A mere few minutes had passed before Harry started to feel the spell slipping away from him, his concentration and his energy fast running out. It only took a single second for the spell to shatter completely, a gasp of relief forcing its way out of Harry despite the fact he felt anything but relief. Voldemort's spirit was free now. He did not have a body and the spell should have weakened him enough to not be able to take another's body for quite a while, but he was still loose and he still existed.

Harry leaned on his staff heavily, his muscles sapped of most of their strength. He looked up to check on the DADA professor's condition but when his eyes rose, he came face to face with the eerie features of Voldemort, just about visible in the mass of black which was the man's soul. The spirit of the evil man did not hover by his face for long before it swept forward, moving straight through Harry. The terrible, cold feeling of complete wrongness chilled his entire body and in his already weakened state it was more than enough to sap the last of his strength which was keeping him conscious.

With a shuddered breath, Harry's heavy eye-lids slid shut and he fell forward, his staff slipping out of his limp fingers and falling with him. He did not even feel the arms which caught him before he hit the hard ground at the bottom of the stone steps.

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(1) Tolth: release

(2) Elessa: restore

(3) L'ore: sleep

(4) Cal: shine

(5) Beria: protect

(6) Aku Ryu Tai San: evil spirits run away, (this is actually Japanese rather than Elvish but we can just pretend right:) )
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Family Means More Than Blood